


Uncharted

by valda



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Meet the Family, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a big step for their fledgling relationship, Earl introduces Cecil and Carlos to his son Roger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncharted

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Tumblr prompt from an anon, "cecearlos 1: introduction," for the [word meme](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/118045298623/peekbelowthesurface-send-me-a-number-and-two).

“Sit straight in the chair, please. Feet on the floor.”

Roger twisted into a proper sitting position without complaint, his legs slipping down from where they’d been draped across the back and arm of the chair. His shirt was a little rumpled—but his shirts were always a little rumpled. It was okay. Sure, Roger could never seem to sit in a chair without splaying himself across it, and he was easily distracted, and he was also a little too frank sometimes…but he was also obedient, and polite, and clean, and well dressed. Those things were important right now, because the truly special things about Roger—that he was sweet, and sensitive, and caring, and enthusiastic, and loved hugs, and sometimes needed affection and sometimes needed to be alone…none of those things would be as obvious at first. His clothes and his behavior would make the first impression, and that impression would determine whether or not a deeper understanding would ever come.

Earl swallowed.

He was probably overthinking this. They’d talked about it several times, and Cecil and Carlos had assured him repeatedly that they wouldn’t leap to judgment. Of course, they’d also said they were sure they’d love Roger, because Roger was Earl’s son, so how could they not? And while that was a lovely sentiment, Earl was a practical man.

He wanted them to see what he saw. But he was afraid the other things—the things that made it hard to keep a babysitter, the things that resulted in near-daily notes from Roger’s teacher—would make that impossible.

This—none of this—could ever work if one of them ended up hating Roger.

Earl glanced at his son again. Roger was absorbed by his DS; he had a new card-based old-god-appeasement game that Earl had only given him the day before. It was a good distraction. It kept Roger mostly in one place, anyway.

“Remember,” he said, “you’ll need to put the game away when they get here.”

“I know,” Roger replied, not looking up.

Earl forced himself to sit back into the couch. He let out a long, slow breath, lacing his fingers together across his stomach.

The doorbell coughed.

“I’ll get it!” Roger scrambled up from the armchair before Earl even had a chance to sit up, darting to the front door and flinging it open. “Hi!” he said. Of course, Roger couldn’t just stand normally; he bent dramatically to the left, elbow cocked into the air as he scratched himself mid-back. “I’m Roger!”

“Hi,” returned Carlos’ voice. “I’m Carlos, and this is Cecil.”

Earl joined his son at the door to find the two of them standing on the stoop. Cecil was holding a bottle of something that was probably alcoholic; a gift bag dangled from Carlos’ hand.

Earl smiled at them, feeling oddly shy. “Hey,” he said, laying a hand on Roger’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Carlos said, and Cecil added, “Hi, Early.”

“Come on in,” Earl said, waving toward the cluster of seating in the center of the living room. It occurred to him that everyone he loved was in the same place for the very first time; he closed his eyes briefly, then shut the door.

“I thought maybe we could play a board game before dinner?” he suggested. “Maybe talk a little?”

“Sure,” Cecil said, hovering near the couch. This seemed odd. Normally he would just…sit down.

“Please sit,” Earl said awkwardly.

Cecil perched himself on the edge of a cushion and set the bottle on the table. “Oh,” he said, “I brought this. It’s, um, root beer.”

Roger, Earl suddenly realized, had disappeared back into his DS, but at Cecil’s announcement he looked up excitedly. “Ooooh! Can we have some, Dad?”

“Sure,” Earl said. “Go put your DS away first.”

Roger dashed off down the hall and was back in a matter of seconds. “I’ll get cups!” he offered, barreling into the kitchen.

Carlos had settled into the armchair, which was set at an angle to the couch. Cecil was on the opposite end of the couch, which meant there was room between the two of them for Earl and Roger to sit. Had they planned that? Why hadn’t _Earl_ planned that? “I brought some rice scones,” Carlos said, hefting the gift bag. “I, um, learned how to bake them myself.”

Earl took Carlos’ meaning, and he was pretty sure Cecil did too, but for some reason Cecil didn’t make a snappy rejoinder.

Roger emerged from the kitchen with four plastic cups cradled in his arms. He dumped them onto the coffee table and then set to work standing them up properly one at a time.

“Thanks, Roger,” Carlos said, flashing his winning smile. “Ceec, you want to pour?”

“Um. Sure?” Cecil said, sounding slightly startled. He grabbed the bottle and started wrestling with the cap. Nearly a full minute passed as he strained at it.

“Give it here,” Earl said finally, and Cecil, looking mortified, passed him the root beer. Earl twisted the cap off and handed the bottle back.

Cecil continued acting strangely the whole evening. He was so distracted during the game of Oranges to Oranges that he never seemed to come up with any good cards…but he also generously complimented everyone else’s cards, which was odd given that his normal board game behavior involved copious amounts of trash talk and boasting. Then, at dinner, he barely said a word, instead shoveling food into his mouth so fast that he was done eating before Earl and Carlos had even gotten through half of their meals. (Roger, as usual, took a few bites and then immediately started asking if he could turn on the TV, or get his DS, or go find his Bambi action figure to show Carlos. “Finish your food,” Earl told him, numerous times.)

After dinner, they moved back to the living room. Earl arranged the scones Carlos had made on a tray and set them in the middle of the coffee table. “If you’ll hold on a minute, I’ll start the coffee,” he said. “I hammered the beans and tweezed the grinds into the filter before you guys got here, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Oh, Earl,” Cecil said, sounding dismayed, “you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble!”

“Now, Cecil, I know you’re particular about your coffee,” Earl grinned. But Cecil didn’t grin back, or sniff at him about how _some_ people were just _uncivilized_ , or roll his eyes, or anything. Earl’s smile faltered. “It was no trouble,” he hurried to add. “I like it your way, too.”

It was all going wrong. Cecil was obviously uncomfortable. He wanted to leave. Roger had behaved pretty well, too—he’d been friendly and answered every question Carlos had asked him about school and Boy Scouts. If Cecil didn’t like Roger when he was on his best behavior…

“Hey Carlos, wanna see my room?” Roger asked.

Carlos set aside his scone. “Sure! Ceec, you want to come?”

“I’ll just stay here,” Cecil said hollowly. Carlos bent to kiss Cecil on the temple, then laughed as Roger grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the room.

Earl held back a sigh. “Come to the kitchen with me?” he asked. Best to get this dealt with now.

Cecil stood quietly in the doorway as Earl filled the coffeemaker with water and turned it on. Earl straightened, turned to face him, and leaned back against the counter. “This isn’t working, is it?” he asked.

“I…I guess not,” Cecil said, and Earl recognized the misery in his voice.

“It’s okay,” Earl said, because even after all these decades his first instinct was to comfort Cecil, even a Cecil who didn’t love his son. “Roger’s a lot to take. I understand.” His fingers flexed into fists. He understood, even if it meant this was the end. It was fine. That was just how it would be—

“He hates me,” Cecil said.

Earl’s thoughts stuttered to a stop. He blinked. “What?”

“I tried really hard, Earl. But I don’t know how to make kids like me.” Cecil stared furiously at the coffeemaker. “I knew I’d be the problem. I mean, everyone loves Carlos. I was hoping maybe some of that would rub off on me. But I’m just—I can’t—”

“Cecil,” Earl interrupted, “you…you think Roger hates you?”

“He _obviously_ does,” Cecil said, his voice practically a wail. “We don’t have _anything_ to say to each other. I don’t know how to get along with kids.”

“But…” Earl was at a loss. “But Janice—?”

“Janice is my _niece_ , Earl,” Cecil snapped suddenly, a bit of his endearing snippiness returning. “I’ve known her since she was _born_. _Obviously_ we have things in common. That’s _different_.”

“But it’s only been a few hours,” Earl said. “He doesn’t even know you yet. He can’t possibly hate you—” He blinked again, then shook his head. “Um,” he said, “and you… _you_ don’t hate _him_ , do you?”

“What?” Cecil frowned. “No, of course not.”

Earl let out a long huff of breath, his muscles all going slack at once. He slumped against the counter, lowering his head. “Cecil,” he said quietly. “I’ve been—I’ve been really unfair to you.”

Cecil was silent for a beat. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought—I thought you wouldn’t like Roger. I know you said you didn’t think it would be a problem. But—he’s a great kid, but sometimes he bothers people. I was afraid…”

“Early,” Cecil said. “Even if he was an unholy terror, I’d still love him. I mean…he’s _yours_.” Earl looked up, but Cecil was still staring at the coffeepot. “But if he doesn’t like _me_ …Earl, I’ve messed things up so much already. I don’t even know why you put up with me as it is. There’d be—there’d just be no reason to keep me around.”

Earl couldn’t speak. He pushed off from the counter, crossing the room to Cecil in three steps, arms wrapping around his waist to pull him tight. Cecil’s hands came up to cradle Earl’s face, so gently, like it was something fragile, and Earl let out a short laugh that was almost a sob. “Cecil,” he finally managed to say, “I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I love you too,” Cecil whispered. Earl kissed him, desperate. For a long moment that was all there was, their mouths moving together, exploring, seeking, finding.

Then, “Ooooooooh,” came a teasing chorus from behind Cecil, and they broke apart to find Carlos and Roger standing there grinning.

“You better kiss Carlos too, Dad. And Cecil and Carlos should kiss too. So it’s fair,” Roger said.

“It’s important to be fair,” Carlos agreed, holding out his arms. Cecil laughed and pulled him into their embrace; Earl slipped one arm around Carlos and gave him a peck on the lips.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” he told Carlos mildly. “It’s also important for sons to respect their fathers.” Then, suddenly realizing what that had sounded like, he stammered, “Father. I mean. Um.”

Carlos tipped his forehead down to touch Earl’s. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “We know what you mean. And there’s plenty of time to work everything out. Right, Ceec?”

Cecil’s arms tightened around both their shoulders. “Right,” he said softly.

“Cecil, come see what I got,” Roger demanded suddenly. “It’s really cool.” And then it was a surprised Cecil’s turn to be dragged away by the hand.

Earl raised an eyebrow.

“The Lee Marvin doll,” Carlos said. “I told him Cecil would love it.”

“ _Oh my Spire_ ,” came Cecil’s shrieking voice from down the hall. “That is the _coolest_.”

Earl shook his head and finally let out the sigh he’d been holding. “Did you know…did you know he was so worried about meeting Roger?”

“Yeah.” Carlos nuzzled into Earl’s neck. “I tried to tell him that kids are just, like, people, in a smaller size. But that might have made it worse. I’m not sure.”

“I had no idea,” Earl said. “I was more worried about—about what you two would think.”

Carlos raised his head to look Earl in the eyes. “You were? Why?”

Earl cast his head back, turning his gaze to the ceiling. “I just—if you didn’t like Roger, then…that would be it. We couldn’t be together. I…I did not want that to happen.” He looked back to Carlos. “But I couldn’t put that pressure on Roger. I couldn’t try to make him be something he’s not.”

Carlos hugged him tight. “You’re a good father, Earl. And Roger is a great kid. I don’t know why you were worried about us not liking him.”

Earl huffed out a laugh. “It kind of seems silly now.”

Carlos kissed his neck and hummed contentedly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The coffee was perfect (“You should give Carlos lessons, Earl,” Cecil said) and the scones were delicious (“You know who should _not_ be giving Carlos lessons in _anything_?” Cecil commented). Earl relaxed into the sofa, and Cecil snuggled up to him on one side, and Carlos curled up on the other side, and Roger sat upside-down in the armchair, his feet dangling over the back. For once, Earl decided not to correct him.

There was some consternation over what to watch until Roger’s bedtime— _Cat Ballou_ was the only Lee Marvin movie Earl would allow Roger to see, but the movie had a special meaning for Cecil and Carlos, so he didn’t suggest it. Finally they settled on a _Great Luftnarp Bake-Off_ marathon. “It’s amazing what they can do with those potatoes,” Cecil said.

Roger was old enough that he preferred to read to himself in bed rather than having a story read to him, but he still liked to be tucked in. Once he had settled into his bunk with his latest read, Earl bent down for a hug, kissing his son on the forehead. “Night,” he said.

“Cecil next!” Roger cried out. Looking nervous and pleased, Cecil stooped down and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. “Now Carlos!”

Earl left the door open a crack as he, Cecil, and Carlos moved into the hall. “Lights out at ten,” he reminded Roger. “Good night. I love you.”

“Love you,” Roger called after them.

“Earl,” Carlos said quietly as the three of them settled back onto the couch, “Roger is great. Tonight was great.”

Cecil nodded, looking shy. “I think we were all a little worried about how things would go…but I also think we all wanted things to go well. And they did. And things won’t always go well. But now we have a starting point.” He fluttered his hands vaguely. “This would be easier to explain if I was on the radio.”

Carlos giggled and kissed him. Earl took his hand. “Sometimes you can’t just wrap everything up neatly in a bow,” he said. “My life, for example.”

“We’re a part of that life, Early,” Cecil said. “And…thank you, for giving me the chance to do it _right_ this time.”

Earl squeezed Cecil’s fingers. “Thank _you_ ,” he said.

They stayed up talking until well past the time Carlos’ eyelids began fluttering sleepily; Cecil ended up carrying him to the car. Earl watched them drive away, back toward their apartment, and smiled. This relationship was strange. Disjointed. Two of them were at the point of living together. Two of them had a long, storied history that it sometimes seemed dangerous to explore. Two of them were very new to each other, drawn both by desire and mutual affection. And then, of course, one of them was bringing a child into the mix.

But Cecil was right. They all wanted things to go well.

And if they kept working at it, kept talking, kept taking care of each other—if they kept wanting things to go well, then maybe, just maybe, they would.


End file.
